


Something Blue, Something Borrowed

by StoryTimeTheCreed



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Unity, Boys Being Boys, Boys Will Be Boys, Gen, I just like Ghost vs Icecream, La Fantome to be precise, M/M, Multi, Other, Spongebob Voice: The Gang's All Here, That's free real estate, but doing this on my laptop is hard so he'll be Ghost, called him The Other One for like years and then finally just went, non playable characters, so that's what I call The Other One, you're a ghost now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryTimeTheCreed/pseuds/StoryTimeTheCreed
Summary: A killer in Paris may turn friends against one another, enemies into lovers, and the innocent guilty?
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Greencoat, Arno Dorian/Icecream, Axeman & Arno Dorian, Axeman/ Greencoat, Axeman/Icecream (Assassin's Creed), Greencoat/Icecream (Assassin's Creed)
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Dark green coat to his right, light tan on his left, Arno felt there was no other place he’d rather be than looking over the river, admiring France, with his best pals. Spring was here, the frost of winter thawing around them and bringing a new year. A new time. Arno smiled at Phillip’s and Demetri’s bickering. New things held a bit of the old, he mused, then the dark lurkings breached in his mind and he shook his head of such thoughts. New beginnings, he told himself, the past was good to remember but not dwell. He would not allow that darkness to taint this bright, new world. 

“All I’m saying is that it might be.” Phillip continued. “It would be foolish for us to believe otherwise.”

“Anyone who breaks tenants is immediately kicked out.” Demetri countered, frowning at the thought. “Look what they did to Arno, sorry man.” Demetri put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, then looked past to Phillip. “Do you think they would keep someone they thought was spilling the blood of innocents?”

This piqued his interest, and Arno rose a brow. “What are you talking about?” Demetri and Phillip were always on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to, well, anything. Maybe that was why they were such good friends. The ability to disagree but respect other’s opinions was admirable, but arguments were so common that Arno had to confess he found his mind wandering when one broke out.

“The murders. Where have you been?” Phillip’s face drained as realization dawned. His mouth forming a small ‘o’. “I’m so sorry, Arno. I meant no disrepect.”

Arno had to laugh, that was all he could do, and assured his friend it was ok. Since leaving the Brotherhood, Arno placed himself outside the loop. Parties, events, gossip, murders apparently, many things slipped past now that he no longer worked in the shadows. An intended effect. Arno did this to himself, and he was happy for it. The Brotherhood wasn’t for him, he told himself, and he had to tell them. “Quit apologizing, Phillip. Another one, and I’m going to return to the Brotherhood specifically to make you my next target, understand?” He threw his arm on either man and growled a deep, menacing growl. “Both of you.” 

The trio stared at one another. Demetri’s grey eyes flashing from Phillip’s scared expression to Arno’s evil face. Then they broke out in laughter.

Once remedied, Arno asked again. “Murders you say?”

It was Demetri who answered, and his usual cheshire grin was replaced with a somber, set line. “There’s been murders all over Paris. The Brotherhood has tried connecting the victims, but they’re completely random.”

“The only thing tying them is how they died.” Phillip continued, and gestured between him and Demetri. “That’s why I think an Assassin did it.”

“And why I think one didn’t.” Arno gave them an exasperated look. Demetri rubbed under his jawline, and dread filled his veins like ice. Arno knew that point. He’d learned it intimately during his training. “A single puncture wound in the artery.” 

“Only an Assassin would know to kill like that.”

“No Assassin worth his weight would spill innocent blood. If a whisper reached the Masters, they would have those involved thrown out, or worse.”

“But-” And again the argument span. Arno chewed on this information. An Assassin killing innocents? It wasn’t the protection of the Creed that angered him so, but the fact that civilians weren’t trained to protect themselves against Assassin attacks. How does one protect from what one doesn’t know exists? This left a sour taste in his mouth. No, he told himself. The Assassins would take care of this.

His mood brightened significantly when Gerard wearing his brown coat, single cuff, axe across his back, appeared at the end of the bridge. He hadn’t meant to join them, but Arno was glad he’d been able to. “Monsieur, I’m afraid only friends on this bridge.” Arno joked and headed over to him with one hand extended. 

Gerard returned his joke with an eye roll. Clasping his arm firmly, he pulled Arno into a hug and clapped his back. “Friends with the likes of you? Wouldn’t dream of it.” His laughter was weak and he looked past to the Assassins behind him. 

“Not a social call.” Arno moved out of his line of sight, and Gerard sadly agreed.

“Unfortunately, Arno. Soon, we will see one another, but we must be going.” The two had seen Gerard and headed over. The laugh lines on his face were hidden when he was expressionless. His eyes couldn’t hold for too long, shifting between them. 

The look was one Demetri and Phillip had grown accustomed, and Phillip’s jaw dropped. “Another one? So soon?”

Demetri’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Tell me we have something, Axeman, because I tire of this game.”

“There was one thing found.” Gerard cast Arno a look. “I’m sorry Arno. I mean no offense.” Arno raised a brow, and Gerard cleared his throat. Growing formal, professional, Arno was reminded why this man was once his second in command and now the leader of the Frenchmen. “A blue cloth was found in the hand of this victim.” Again, his eyes went to Arno.

Demetri’s disgust colored his tone. “What the hell is this, Axeman. You don’t mean to imply…”

Arno didn’t like the way they were looking at him. Like he was alien. Unknown. “Woah, non, non, non, non. Tell me you’re not thinking I’m responsible.” 

Demetri gripped his hilt and pushed his way between Gerard and Arno. Phillip engaged his hidden blade and stood in a similar manner. “Axeman.” It took all his restraint to keep to their codenames and not call Gerard an imbecile. “What joke is this?”

Huffing a look between his two friends, Gerard put his hands up in peace but cast worried looks. “I know Arno is not to blame for this. I’m only stating the information that’s arisen. Peace, Greencoat. Ghost.” The two looked at each other, but wouldn’t lower their weapons. Arno couldn’t blame them. Leaving behind a blue cloth? There had to be thousands of blue outfits in Paris, but his was the most notable. Even if his friends didn’t think he was the killer, the Brotherhood might. An Assassin-like killing? An Assassin who was kicked out of the Brotherhood? Why again had he not retired to Nice?

“Drop your weapons. Axeman means no harm.” Arno voiced. His friends looked over their shoulders, and he nodded. They looked at one another and lowered their weapons, but the tension remained. A spark could ignite them.

“I meant no offense, Arno.” Gerard repeated, his eyes pleading his friend to understand. “I know you’re not to blame, but I can’t ignore this. Neither can the Masters. Since you’re not the killer, and we all know you’re not,” he assured the other two, “it appears someone is trying to frame you.”

“None taken, I swear.” Arno assured him. “Though why do you think that?”

Now, Gerard’s grin returned. Beaming with the ghost of pride. “Don’t you think people noticed your part in the Revolution? Don’t you think your deeds might have angered someone?”

Arno frowned. This was why the Brotherhood was a bad idea, he reprimanded himself. Shaking his head, he palmed his face and ran a hand through his hair. “All of us helped. All of us.” His eyes landed on them each in turn. “That still doesn’t explain why me.”

All Gerard could offer was a shrug. “We can ask the Masters to grant you admittance in the Bureau. For the time being, of course. Until this matter sorts out. Keeps you in their sights so they know your innocence, and protects you if this killer has more sinister motives.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Phillip nodded, “Stay with us. We can protect you.”

“I understand the good intentions you all have for my well-being, but I fear those in the Brotherhood would not be so kind.” No one spoke. He was right. Attempting to ease the mood, Arno held his head high. “Anyways, I won’t be kept prisoner in that stone fortress. Find me at the Cafe. In the meantime, I know this killer will meet his end with you. Bonne journee. ” Arno turned on his heel, leaving the ghosts of those who felt wronged by him behind. This was not how this day was supposed to go.


	2. Chapter 2

Sore the following morning, he rolled out of bed. Shoes hitting the floor, Arno looked down.That would have been queer had he not had blood on his shirt. In a panic, Arno removed the garment and threw it aside. Inspecting himself and finding no wounds, Arno dressed and examined the bloodied shirt and dirty pants. Taking off the clothes, he laid them on the bed. No cuts. Just blood where his chest and stomach would’ve been, and mud at his knees to ankles. What the hell had he done last night? Throwing the clothes in a bucket of hot water, Arno cleaned them and set them out to dry. Burning them was always an option, but he didn’t want to yet.

This was getting out of hand. Impossible! There had to be a reasonable explaination. Tears welled in his eyes, and Arno fell against the wall. There was no way. There had to be a reasonable explaination. Tears fell hot on his skin, and he wiped his face.

An Assassin-like killing. Cuts of blue cloth left behind. Blood. Arno losing track of himself. The impossible was growing seemingly more probable.

Ducking into his hands, Arno shook his head. “I’m not a killer.” He spoke aloud, willing the words into existence. “I’m not a killer.” Glasses of water by the door were unspilled, the stacks of books and wood placed around the room meant to trip him were untouched. And here he was without injury. 

The sleep walking had started months ago. Having never done it before, Arno would not have believed he rolled out of bed one night and walked out the door had he not woken up wearing his shoes. The blood didn’t show up until a few weeks after. If he’d had blood on him before, he’d never woken up with it. It was growing worse. Waking in strange places was the most difficult part, so he was content every time he awoke in bed.

Staying up until the dead of night usually did the trick, so that’s how he slept. It had been two weeks since he’d seen the Frenchmen, and he was due for a call. Breakfast at the bridge would do nicely. After sending a letter to his friends, Arno awaited the day with dread. There had been no murders.

The night before his meeting, Arno set his obstacles down and went to bed.

That following morning, Arno awoke with an aching head. Pressing his hand against it, he met with a wet sleeve. Why was that? A shriek awoke him fully, and he opened his eyes to find the sun blinding him. How did that get into his bedroom? How did that woman? And those clamoring people?

Rolling out of bed, Arno landed on the ground. Dirt grit in his teeth and a bucket crashed beside him, drowning him in ice cold water. Waking fully, Arno leapt to his feet and wiped mud from his face. The sight should’ve gain attention, a seemingly drunk man clattering awake, but people were in disarray over the news.

Bringing his sleeve to his face to wipe it, Arno found it covered in blood. Pain shot through his arm at the movement, and Arno doubled over. Clutching his forearm to his chest, Arno waited for the stares. The attention the people would give a seemingly drunk man stirring from his sleep couldn’t be shared by what they were staring at in the center. 

Dashing in between houses, Arno ran through the crowd unnoticed, the whispers already reaching his ears. 

There had been another murder.

Lounging around the bridge, the men were awaiting. Demetri saw him first, and dropped his smile when Arno rushed past him, tears in his frantic eyes, pale, clutching his arm awkwardly against his chest, a dirty jacket over it. “Is it broken?” Demetri took hold of his good arm, and checked under the jacket.

Gerard and Phillip bound down the bridge, and Arno leaned against Phillip. “What the hell? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Phillip shouldered him and Gerard checked down the bridge. 

“Followed?” 

“Non, non.” Arno shook his head.

Phillip hissed and secured the jacket. “Get him to the clocktower.”

“Is it broken?” Gerard asked, trying to take a peek but Phillip pushed him away and shook his head. 

“Not here! Clocktower! Now!” Taking Arno’s arm around him, he beckoned Demetri and Gerard ahead of them. “How are you feeling?”

But Arno kept repeating, “Non, non, non.” Gaze far away like he couldn’t believe it. Phillip nodded, knowing his patient’s state of mind, and helped him to the base.

The space was meant purely to visit, not live in, so they made do with two cots, a large table, and some provisions. In his former life, Phillip was a doctor. Well, he would have been had the revolution not halted his studies. In any case, experience replaced schooling, and he would return when he had time. Clearing the table with a push, Demetri set some utensils on the side and awaited orders. Gerard ran outside to ensure they weren’t followed. 

Taking a seat at the table, Arno allowed Phillip to remove the coat. A hiss went around the room as his team took him in. Before he could even attempt to read their faces, Phillip had him laying on his back. Phillip ordered Gerard to gather supplies as he lit a candle and moved mirrors to increase the light until Arno was blindly looking up at shadows working on his arm. His mind felt dull and the voices far away.

“Thank God, it’s not broken.” Phillip muttered, cutting away at Arno’s sleeve and pressing against the wound. Arno winced. “Je suis desole, mon ami. I’m sorry, but this will hurt for a little. There’s a huge gash running the length of your forearm, almost clear to the bone. Must have been a knife or a sword. How did you recieve a blow like this?”

“I-I don’t remember.” Arno breathed, and Gerard took his forearm steadily. A needle reflected the light. Arno held his breath. “I remember going to sleep and then, nothing.”

The group was quiet at Phillip worked on his wounds. He was so close, Arno would feel the gentle inhale and exhale of his breath across his skin. “What do you remember last?” Phillip’s attempts to question him while seeming nonchalant were weak, but Arno didn’t care anymore. Now, he was frightened. Fully frightened. 

“Uh, going to sleep last night. Tuesday.” Arno mumbled, the need to rub his eyes strong. The light was irritating him as much as the question was. He hadn’t an answer for it. None that would satisfy either of them. The group went silent.

“Tuesday?” Phillip asked mindlessly. “Are you sure, Arno?”

“Yes, Phillip, Tuesday! I know what the days of the week are! It was the same day I wrote you the letter!” Arno growled. Gerard tightened his hold on his arm and Arno began to curse. Phillip poured a liquid that burned over his wound and had begun probing.

“I’m sorry, Arno! Just disinfecting, looking for clues. Demetri, grab the beaker on the left.” There was a scuffle and Demetri returned. “We got you, mon ami.” Phillip placed the beaker at his lips. The smell burned his nose and the taste made him want to spit, but Arno gulped down until the beaker was pulled away.

“I trust you. You’ll fix my arm.” Arno’s lids felt heavy just as his stomach felt warm. His head was lowered softly on the table. Someone had taken off his hood and placed it as a cushion.

“Arno, it’s…” Phillip took a deep breath. “We’re going to find out what’s been going on with you, promise.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Arno’s head turned to the side and he spied his friends. His smile slid from his face as he took in their worried looks. “When was Tuesday?”

“Two days ago.” Phillip responded gently. And Arno was out. 

Seven stitches later, Arno was motionless on the table save for the rising and falling of his chest, Phillip cleared his arms and changed his clothes. No one spoke. The killing in Paris were increasing in number and ferocity. When whispers that Arno had been responsible rose within the Brotherhood, the Frenchmen squashed those rumors easily; but now? Arno had written to them days ago and they’d shown up at the bridge as intended. What had he been doing in that time? There had been a murder, but surely….Phillip shook his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to even think that thought.

“What are we going to do?” Demetri asked, rolling his sleeves and cleaning the surgery. “What? We’re all thinking it. Arno has been losing time, we’ve been having murders, it’s easy enough to put together.”

“I thought you were opposed to the idea.” Gerard grunted, remembering that day on the bridge. 

“And you said someone had to be framing him.”

“But who?” Phillip asked, silencing them with a look. “That’s our job while he,” He gestured vaguely to Arno. “Besides, he should be out for some time, seeing how much he drank.”

“How was I to know he’d guzzle it down?” Demetri rose a brow. “In any case, maybe this is better.”

“Gives us time to figure out what caused this.” Producing from a cloth a piece of shard, Phillip took tweezers and inspected it in the sunlight. “Dagger, old but firm. Probably a guard. Demetri, I take it you’re still friends with the locksmith over on by the river? Good. See what you guys see.”

“Who put you in charge?” Demetri smirked, gathering up his things.

“My surgery, my rules.” Phillip winked and then grew grave. “Besides, I need to keep an eye on our patient. Oh, and we have to be back at the Bureau by nightfall.”

Demetri groaned, Pierre would want to know where they’ve been. Since the death of his father, the wayward son returned home and picked him up mantle within the French Brotherhood. He was charming, fun to be around, a good Assassin, and a great leader; but Demetri didn’t like him. Pierre was trying to become a Frenchmen. Not that Demetri didn’t get it, they were a cool lot to work with, but it felt wrong filling Arno’s spot. Arno wasn’t coming back, they all knew it and they did need the help, but Demetri hated endings.

Gerard twirled his axe in his hands before setting it across his back. “I suppose you’d like wine and cheese upon our return?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm and Phillip grinned.

“If you’re offering.” With a groan, Gerard tossed a towel at him and headed for the window. Performing a leap of faith, he was gone. “We have stairs, you know!” Phillip called after him, and Demetri threw on his hood.

“Why? This is the best part of being an Assassin.” With the soft thud of hay indicating they were fine, Phillip set up beside Arno and waited. Now came the hard part.

Demetri’s girl told him of a brawl a few days ago at the palace, so they headed that way. Once there, Demetri took the key he’d “borrowed” from the darling, and in they slipped. The palace was teeming with guards, extra bodies, and since they’d come in through the front door, they provided little issue.

“I feel naked like this, Greencoat.” Gerard growled, his voice low and his body tense. Demetri, on the other side, strode with ease and comfort.

“Naked is a great feeling.” Was his response, and he grew serious. “Try not to look like you’re trouble, and I find that trouble will not find you. Besides, if we wanted trouble, why did we come in through the front?” He tapped a finger at his temple. “Splitting up, we could gather more information. There was a fight here a few days ago, that would be Wednesday morning.”

“When Arno first forgets.”

“Correct. Guards are such gossip, I’m sure we’ll find something from them. But, then again, maids often see more than people think…”

“Because I want to leave in a timely manner and not get chased out by a husband you’ve offended,” Gerard chuckled, “I’ll take the maids and you take the guards. Hm?” Demetri pouted at they bound up the steps and Gerard slipped into the shadows on the right. “Change would do you good, Greencoat.” Demetri growled, but Gerard was gone and didn’t receive it. Rolling his head, he headed for the guards chambers.

Now, you might be asking yourself how it was that they knew the locations of these establishments. The answer, very simply, was that the Frenchmen Four got into trouble a lot. One such incident was the night of de la Serre’s murder. The night Arno’s life changed. And the fact that Demetri had friends here wasn’t without benefit. 

Tucking into the north side of the palace, Demetri found a room where the guards congregated, relieved the clothes of a guard who left his clothes out for just anyone to take, changed, and imbedded himself into the conversation.

“Like a madman.” One guard was saying, and Demetri gravitated towards that conversation. “Just shows up in the middle of the night like a demon out of hell, cutting a few of our guys before leaping off the roof.”

“You’re lying!” Another whispered, “Is that why the curfew was enacted? Why we’ve our routes have changed? I thought that was because of the murders.”

“Bet that’s the same guy.”

“One man can’t. It’s impossible. Besides, he leapt from the roof. That maniac is long dead.” The guards moved away, and Demetri remained in hopes there might yet be more information.

Gerard had to hand it to him, maids were mousey, and how Demetri managed to get them to talk was beside him. Keeping to the shadows, unsure how to approach, Gerard was content to eavesdrop to the gossip.

Surprise, surprise. The cook was sleeping with the matron, the lady of the house was unhappy in her marriage and sleeping with the head guard. The man of the house was too. All these Gerard listened to as a man strode into the room and the maids were silent. He reprimanded them for their idle working and set the other women out save for one. When they were alone, the man lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you thought of what we talked about?”

“You talked.” The woman took her basket and preceded to the door. The man sidestepped her and she frowned. “You’re not funny. Move. I have work to do.”

The man pushed her back. “Do you know how many times I’ve covered for your laziness? For your mindless chatter? I gave you this postion. I can take it away.” With that, he dropped the basket from her hands and grabbed her forearms. Rolling his eyes, Gerard emerged from the shadows and the man placed the woman between them and gulped, “What- how? How did you-?”

“Is this man bothering you, Madame?” He kept his eyes on the woman,shock in her eyes at the turn of events. Gerard waited.

“All is well here, more along before I get the guards.” The man scoffed, and eyed Gerard. 

“I was speaking to the lady.” Gerard growled and turned his attention to the man who cowered behind the woman. Gently now, he asked her again. “Are you ok? Would you like me to take care of him for you?” She nodded, and the man yelled for guards. Before he could repeat the cry, Gerard grabbed him by the scuff of the neck and dragged him to a wall. Pinning him until the tips of his toes hovered over the ground was simply, and Gerard made sure the man looked at him. Every time he looked past him, Gerard moved his head in view. “Hey, I’m talking to you now. Got it? You touch my friend, yell at her, upset her again? I’ll find out. Got it? And your little guards won’t save you then. Do you understand me? I hear you’re disrespecting women again, then no one will save you from me.” The man’s eyes widened and Gerard dropped him.

Bending low, Gerard retrieved the basket and handed it back to her. The woman curtsied. “Merci, Mon-” Gerard put up a hand, and smiled.

“I was never here, mon ami.”

“How can I thank you?”

Gerard thought, “Information. A few nights ago there was an incident here. I’d like to know what happened.”

“The crazed man?” The man on the floor choked. Gerard looked over his shoulder, and the man dropped his attitude. 

“There was a commotion a few days ago, a man wandered into the palace and when the guards conforted him went into such a rage.” The woman shrugged, “They chased him until he leapt from the roof, that’s all I know.”

“He was looking for something.” The man behind them spat. “Muttering something about watch. Watch what? He didn’t do anything special.”

“Merci, Madame.” Gerard bowed and the doors to the room opened. In strode a guard, and the man fell to his feet.

“Thank God! Arrest this man! For threatening and attacking a humble servant of the castle.” The guard drew back his other foot and kicked the man in the face, making him senseless. Removing his hat, Demetri leaned against the wall.

“We have got to work on your people skills, Axeman. Oh! Marie! How are you darling?” 

“We don’t have time for this.” Gerard growled and grabbed Demetri by the scruff, Marie waving them goodbye and heading to her work. “Tell me you found something. All I found is that Arno was probably here. Doesn’t sound like the guards could touch him. Leapt from the roof.”

“Sounds like what I heard.” Demetri frowned, “They didn’t think he survived the fall and we know he did.”

“Let’s check out that site.” The side of the wall they’d found Arno had leapt off of lead into a stack of hay bales made for the horses of the palace. There they found a young boy tending the horses and Demetri gave him a coin to tell them what he saw that evening. 

“Monsieur had his eyes closed I thought he was dead!” The boy began, Gerard laughed. He reminded him of his own kids. 

“Then what happened?” Gerard ushered him back on track. 

“Oui, I believe he headed towards to center of town.”

“Did he open his eyes?” He asked again and the boy shook his head. “Thank you, back to work.” 

“How the hell is Arno killing people in his sleep?” Demetri thought aloud more than to himself than to Gerard. “Axeman, we’re missing something. Arno would never-”

“I know.” Gerard responded, “This doesn’t sit right with me either.” On they walked until night fell and they returned to Phillip.


	3. Chapter 3

“How is he?” Demetri asked, eyeing the door. Just on the other side, was the final member of their band. At the top of the clock tower, the Frenchmen were able to watch over the city. The velvety night gave the illusion of rest, and for a moment they could enjoy it. They could pretend things were like they were before.

“Things may not be as they were before,” Arno had said once, “but moving forward isn’t necessarily an ending.” Why he said that so soberly, none of them knew, but his words of wisdom echoed in their minds.

Returning presently, the men stood in various stages of distress. Phillip by the door, having just stepped outside from his patient. Demetri pacing the small length of the tower’s crumbled ledge, hands clasped behind his back being the only indication that he was his father’s son. Gerard standing completely still beside the point they leapt from, absorbing the conversation and all that had occurred that night.

Phillip confessed, choosing his words wisely. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?” Demetri scoffed. The heat from his tone began to tint his cheeks, barely noticeable under his close-cut beard. The skin under his eyes were bruised, and his hair flopped out of its casual messy style to a slick, unkempt tussle. Evidence of sweaty hands palming it all evening. Perhaps even the evening before. “Aren’t you a doctor? What do you mean you don’t know?” Phillip took a step back, and Demetri clasped the bridge of his nose and concentrated on his breathing. When he spoke next, Demetri was kinder. “I apologies, _mon ami_. Given the circumstances...” Demetri caught himself and inhaled again. When he opened his eyes, he said, “Non. You’re going through the same as I. Putting my emotions before yours is not right. Je suis desole, Phillip.”

A moment passed before Phillip took Demetri’s forearm. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He said, pulling Demetri into a hug before pushing away and resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all worried.”

Demetri’s current burnt out state was reflected amongst the group. Phillip’s normally clean cheeks were beginning to darken from where his beard fighting through. Even sending Gerard home for rest and to be with his family wasn’t working as his eyes were unfocused and tired.

When they pulled apart, Gerard asked, “Phillip, what do you think?”

“Honestly?” Running a hand through his hair, the stress began to show on the youngest Frenchmen. “Observation is needed. I gave him more meds to sleep, but that’s not a long-term solution.” Explaining it as non-threatening as he could, Phillip continued, “Keeping him asleep doesn’t prove his innocence either. From the examinations, Arno _has_ been getting fights. By the look of the wounds, he’s been doing this frequently with some wounds not healed yet.”

Gerard hissed, rubbing a hand over his face, and pulling down his mouth. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he think he could come to us?”

“Given what happened last time he was with the Assassins? I don’t blame him.” Demetri countered, gesturing between the three of them. “We’ve not been in his position, so who are we to say how he should act?”

“He did also say he wanted nothing to do with the life.” Phillip added, voicing what they all knew.

Tension hung in the air, and Demetri cleared this with his throat. “The wounds. Anything to pin him to a certain fight? A location? Here’s what we learned…” As the men shared what they learned in the palace, worry began to set on Phillip’s brow as he nodded along. 

“If he’s having, I’m not sure what to call it, an episode?” Phillip said softly, “Then it is important we figure out a way for him to have his best quality of life _while_ protecting those around him. Or, if something is triggering it, how to find and control that trigger. Even then,” Phillip said solemnly, “I cannot guarantee that’s going to stop him.”

“So,” Gerard rose a brow. “You believe he’s responsible for....”

“The attacks?” Demetri finished. The feeling of lead settling in their stomachs. 

Phillip looked to the sky, collecting himself before speaking. When he finally did, he looked between his friends, his brothers. “I know nothing of his paternal medical history. Who knows if this runs in his family or...”

Demetri hissed, Gerard growled, and Phillip leaned against the door. They stood there silently a moment before Demetri slapped his hand to his forehead. The sound startled the other men. “We have that meeting tonight.”

“ _Merde_.” Gerard shook his head. Pierre Bellec, son of _that_ Bellec had returned to the Brotherhood. Working tirelessly to undo his damage his father wrought and rid himself of his shame. Gerard didn’t mind the man, but it was the meeting he was dreading. 

The meetings at the Bureau were slowly turning from their usual monthly events to weekly, and the pressure to mend France and keep the Templars at bay was difficult enough without a killer running around. Tempers were beginning to fray, and none felt the oncoming storm more than Gerard who, as the new leader of the Frenchmen, was under the ever-observing eyes of the Mentors. It wasn’t that his was the only group running around the land, of which there are dozens, but they were watched solely for what Phillip lovingly called the Dorian factor.

The Dorian factor was simply this, Arno had a way of making impressions. With his entrance to his removal from the Brotherhood, the Assassins kept a close eye on Arno to see what he would do next. The Mentors would’ve intervened when he made the decision to live as a civilian had Gerard, Demetri, and Phillip not insisted against. They ensured them their work would not be affected by keeping an eye on Arno, and that he would cause no problem for the Brotherhood.

That was a year ago.

Then, with the entrance of Pierre, the Assassins’ attentions were moved. Unfortunately for the Frenchmen, this was not a good thing. People _loved_ Pierre. He had a way of speaking that assured one that he spoke from the heart. That his word was good and true. Phillip wanted to get to know him, Demetri disliked him, and Gerard hadn’t yet formed an opinion.

“The Mentors are going to make him join us.” Demetri straightened from his slump to stride to the door dramatically bang his forehead against it. “If that’s the case, give me the same medicine you gave Arno so I may sleep through the pain.”

Phillip rolled his eyes, a small smile pushing up the corners of his mouth. “They’re not going to make him join us. Pierre has enough on his plate. Training the novices, working with the Masters-”

“Have you been speaking with him?” Demetri squinted over his shoulder. 

Catching himself, Phillip’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide. The trio waited a moment, and Demetri’s gaze intensified. Finally, Phillip put his hands up, gave a sheepish smile, and took a step back. “Now Demetri-”

“ _Are you serious?!”_ Demetri leapt forward, and Gerard got between them with barely a second to spare. 

“Enough.” Gerard said, but Demetri was too angry and he struggled to hold him back.

“Am I the only one who’s not given up on him yet?” He looked between the men he called his friends. “Am I the only one who remembers everything he went through? This looks bad, I know, but I’m giving Arno the benefit of the doubt! There’s no way in hell Pierre is joining! I’d rather work nights by myself in the southern perimeter than let that scum-”

“Hey! I’m not saying that.” Phillip made a step, but Gerard silenced him with a look.

Turning around, he shoved Demetri back. “Enough? Huh? Had enough, tough guy?” Every time Demetri took a step, Gerard pushed back until he finally gave up and glared at the man. Gerard, unbothered by the sharp grey steel piercing up at him, stood firm. “Demetri, you’ve been awake for two days.” Demetri’s eyes cut to Phillip, but Gerard cocked his head to the side to catch the look. “Do you understand me?” Gerard asked, moving to cover Phillip, and steeling his voice. “Go home. Go to sleep. Check on your plants, check on the cats, sleep for at least 7 hours, and then come back.” Gerard looked over his shoulder and glared at Phillip. “Stay with Arno until he wakes up. Understood?”

“What about the meeting?” Phillip began, but Gerard cut him off with a look. “ _Oui_ , _Monsieur_.”

Demetri threw Gerard’s hands off him and turned the way they’d came. Wind whipped his green coat behind him like a pair of wings. “I’ll sleep _after_ the meeting.” Before Gerard could reply, he dropped. Giving Phillip one last stern look, Gerard followed Greencoat.

Steps echoing off the cobblestone, the pair hurried into the Bureau. Arriving just in time, it seemed, as the meeting had just begun. “Thank you for your patience.” Gerard began, stepping into the center of the room. Staring up at the Mentors peering down at him, Gerard, who stood at 1.8m, the tallest of the Frenchmen, looked very small. Demetri remained on the sideline. His arms crossed and hackles raised, ready to interject if the need arose. 

“We understand you’ve been short staffed as of late.” Victoria began, shifting through papers. Gerard kept his face composed, but Demetri grit his teeth. It seemed this meeting would be straight to the jugular then. 

Squaring his shoulders back, Gerard nodded. “We have. Greencoat, La Phantome, and I have been patrolling the city since the incidents occurred, and we believe-”

“Believe?” Marcos pffted. Leaning in, his eyes darkened. “What have you to show for it?”

“We found-”

“And where’s Arno?” Edmond asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Yes. Where is Monsieur Dorian, Axeman?” Victoria repeated, “I find it rather strange that an Assassin in blue is committing these crimes and no one has had eyes on Monsieur Dorian.”

“We have.” Gerard rose his voice, and then quickly lowered it. Remembering his place, he repeated, “We have, Mentor. Arno is working at his cafe full time. He’s hung up his robes. We know this for certain.”

“I think we need more information.” Edmond countered, looking at the other Masters and dismissing Axeman altogether. “Considering the only people to see Dorian are his friends.”

Demetri shifted to join Gerard but a shadow to his left beat him to it. “Mentors, please.” A crisp, melodic voice interjected. “I mean no disrespect.” He rose his voice and cleared the distance in three strides. Bright blue eyes caught each of the Mentors’ eyes, and they frowned. But listened. The Assassins on the sidelines whispered comments to one another. Pierre waited until silence had fallen before speaking again. “This is a trying time for us all, and we’re all doing our best. Axeman and his group have done more good in this time than what is uncounted for. We didn’t gather here to bring out our frustrations on one another, but to work on bettering France _together_. Correct?” Allowing the weight of his words to settle, Pierre brought himself upright. “If anyone is to blame for the mistrust among our Brotherhood, it’s me and my blood.” Whispers resounded along the crowd, but Pierre ignored these and spoke only to the Mentors. Even Demetri and Axeman found themselves entranced. “Had my father not spilled blood between Assassins, not killed another Mentor, we would be more trusting of one another. It is because of these things,” Pierre stood tall. “I will find this killer. Alone. No one need to bare the shame of the Brotherhood than I. Though I doubt this person is an Assassin since we would never stoop so low as to murder innocents. I volunteer to find this killer. Along with my duties here, of course.”

As his speech settled, Demetri blinked. He hadn’t been aware he’d been holding his breath. His jaw ached from the stress he held in it. The Mentors spoke lowly to one another, causing the rest of the Assassins to lean in. Finally, they broke apart and Victoria spoke. “So be it. Pierre Bellec, you’re leading charge against this killer.” Pierre smiled, and Gerard and Demetri relaxed. They’d still be able to walk out with their hides. “But not alone.” Their smiles dropped. Victoria’s eyes landed on Gerard. “Axeman, since you’re in need, Pierre will be aiding you in your patrols and you’ll be aiding him with finding this killer.”

“And,” Edmond interjecting, scowling as always. “Bring Arno Dorian to us. Immediately.”

“Of course.” Gerard bowed his head and the Mentors excused them. They were bringing about the next meeting when Gerard exited the center. Striding past Demetri, making Demetri jog to catch up, Gerard heading out for some air. 

Once outside, he groaned. “Greencoat, what the hell just happened?”

“You did well, Axeman. Better than I or Ghost could have done, and certainly better than any of those inside.” Demetri assured them. The sound of running footsteps made them turn, and they found Pierre staring between them.

“Apologies, Monsieurs Axeman et Greencoat.”

Gerard waved him in. “Peace, Pierre. Axeman and Greencoat are fine, _merci_.” Pierre walked towards them with a smile, and Demetri crossed his arms and looked to the stars. They were holding strong, but the soft pinks of morning would banish them soon.

“I wanted you to know that I had no intention for that meeting to end how it did. I am so sorry.” Pierre began and Gerard gripped the bridge of his nose. Pierre rubbed the back of his neck and shyly looked to his shoes. “Listen, the Mentors don’t need to know we’re not working together. I don’t mind helping you with your patrols, if you’ll have me, but you don’t have to help me with the Blue Killer.”

“Blue Killer?” Demetri snapped his neck towards the man, and took him in. A mop of black hair under which sat blue eyes, a straight nose, and a charming smile. Demetri rolled his eyes. “You _named_ it?”

“Well, the ‘Killer Running Around France’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?” Shrinking under Demetri’s glare, to Demetri’s joy, Pierre looked desperately at Gerard. “Sorry, Axeman, Greencoat. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Before Demetri could open his mouth to respond, Gerard answered. “You haven’t. Greencoat was about to go get some rest and I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

“Really?” Pierre’s eyes shone bright, and Gerard nodded. “I...I won’t let you down, Axeman.” 

“I’m sure you won’t. We’re going to begin at the river and work our way in. Together, at first. I’d like you to get used to our route before going off on your own.” Gerard explained before looking at Demetri. “ _Bonne nuit_ , Greencoat.”

“ _Bonne journee,_ Axeman.” Demetri turned on his heel and leapt from the roof.

But he didn’t go home. He couldn’t. Bothered in his thoughts, Demetri went to the one person he knew would help.

“So,” Phillip asked as Arno slept silently between them. “What was it like?”

Demetri munched on the croissant he’d _borrowed_ from Arno’s cafe. In his defense, Arno had told them they were welcome to anything! Besides, the people at the Café knew him. “He wears Italian shoes.” Phillip choked on the tea he’d sipped. “I can’t believe Gerard actually took him on. Can you believe that?” Phillip was coughing, sputtering a reply. “I mean, can you?” Demetri pressed.

Thumping on his chest, tears welling in his eyes, Phillip croaked. “Well, I can.” Demetri gasped, and opened his hands in protest. Phillip placed a croissant in Demetri’s open hand and continued. “We’re down one man, people are dying, and I don’t mind the extra help.” Phillip shrugged, looking over at Arno’s body. “Did they mention anything else?”

“Bringing Arno to them.” Demetri dismissed it with a wave of his hand before Phillip could panic. “Gerard will figure it out. Not telling them we had him was a good start, and keeping Arno in hiding would be the best route.” A moment of silence passed as both men finished their snack. When he gulped down the rest of his croissant, Demetri said, “When you said you were watching over him, did we really need to do this?” Demetri dusted flakes of bread from Arno’s stomach.

“If his lips go blue that means he’s stopped breathing, and I want to make sure I’m here if that happens.” Phillip sipped his tea.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a little paranoid?”

Phillip thought a moment, taking another sip. “Non. Why?” His eyes flickered to his friend, and he gave him a small smirk. “Has anyone said anything?” 

Groaning, Demetri rolled his eyes and leaned back. Raising his feet to prop them on the table, as he usually did, Demetri stopped himself and frowned upon finding Arno’s legs there. Settling on leaning back, he crossed his arms tight to his chest. “I’m sorry about how I was acting earlier. I lost my temper, and that wasn’t right, Phillip. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Phillip commented, “Just wish I had your conviction.”

They both cast their stares to the gentle rise and fall of their comrade’s chest. “You really think he did it?” Demetri whispered, like speaking the words aloud would make them real.

“That’s what the evidence is saying.”

“Et toi?”

“I have to follow the evidence.” Phillip said firmly, “I don’t have to luxury to listen to my heart.” Looking up at Demetri, he said, “Do me a favor? Listen to yours for the both of us.” Demetri nodded.

The two friends chatted until Demetri was sound asleep, head tucked into his chest. Phillip, left alone with two of his unconscious friends, took out a book and pondered how his life had turned out this way. Hours passed and Phillip began contemplating if he too should rest when Gerard dusted his heavy boots on their welcome mat.

It wasn’t a real mat, just a thing Phillip had brought from his house to liven the place up. It was accompanied by the pots and pans Gerard had brought, the shelf Arno had helped Phillip build to hold all his books, and the plants Demetri had placed to add the wilted one Phillip had been neglecting. Good intentions strung together with glue and gum, Arno had called it.

“Bon soiree, mes amis.” Gerard voiced, keeping his head down to ensure all the dust was gone before stepping into the room. Automatically staring at Arno, his brows furrowed and he grimaced. “Comment ca va?”

“Ca va, bien, merci. Et toi?” Phillip set aside the book, and got up from his spot. Stretching as he did so, he enjoyed the pop along his spine.

“Ca va.” Gerard replied honestly. Taking a look at Demetri, who was rubbing his eyes and giving his cheeks mild pats to wake up, Gerard smiled bemused. “You should take more rest, Demetri. When was the last time you’ve slept?”

“Just now.” He replied, rolling to the balls of his feet and began doing little hops. Shaking the sleep from himself, Demetri cracked his neck, to Phillip’s disgust, and began warming up his wrists. “Where to first?”

“You should rest.” Gerard continued, “Don’t make me make that an order.”

Before Demetri could respond, a groaning from the table interrupted them. Phillip dashed across the room just as Arno’s hand went to his forehead and his eyes fluttered. Gerard and Demetri were right behind. Keeping some distance, Phillip took his friend’s free hand and gave him a squeeze. “I know this must be very scary, Arno, so please take your time. You’re in the clock tower. Demetri and Gerard are here with us. You got hurt but you’re better now.” Arno’s eyes opened, but wouldn’t fixate. Phillip smiled, “There you go. Don’t try to remember it all at once, just take in your surroundings. Tell me what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling.”

“I-“ Arno blinked, widening his eyes a moment before groaning and closing them. “I feel sick. Like my head is pounding and my stomach is doing flips.” As his fingers massaging his temples, everyone waited with bated breath. “I’m dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Before Phillip could ask, Demetri rushed to grab a pail. Phillip squeezed Arno’s hand again and said, “That’s ok, it’s a normal feeling. Just take your time.” Then he looked at Gerard and asked, “Can you make some broth and get some bread? We’re going to have to introduce food slowly.” Nodding once, Gerard disappeared to their makeshift kitchen.

“I don’t…” Arno groaned, attempting to sit up. Without Phillip’s assistance, he would’ve smacked back down on the table. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Keeping one hand secured on his back and the other gripping his forearm, Phillip helped him up slowly. “No trouble at all, I promise you.”

Arno scoffed, and closed his eyes again. They stayed like that a moment, listening to Gerard in the kitchen and hearing Demetri clamber back with the pail. Rubbing Arno’s shoulder, Demetri moved to sit beside Phillip. Arno’s hand went from Phillip’s to Demetri. His eyes still closed, he gripped tight. “I don’t deserve friends like you.”

Demetri gave him a sad smile and a firm hold. “You’d do the same for us, Arno, don’t deny it.”

Again, Arno scoffed, but finally he opened his eyes and locked them on Demetri’s greys. “I need you to do something for me.”

Concern etching across his face, Demetri got down to Arno’s level and held his hand. “Anything, _mon ami._ Just name it.”

Tears rimmed Arno’s eyes and he nodded. “I’m sorry, Demetri, to ask this of you, but I could trust no one better.”

Phillip shifted uncomfortably. “Arno, maybe you should rest.” He cautioned, but Arno held Demetri fast.

Arno pressed, holding Demetri hostage, his frown deepening. “If I do anything, _anything_ that raises a suspicion you, you need to kill me.”

Revolted and recoiling, Demetri pulled away, aghast. “Arno! How could you ask-?”

“I remember.” Arno’s voice quivered, a lone tearing rolling down his cheek. Wiping it away with one hand, the other still holding Phillip’s, Arno looked between the two of them. “I remember what I was doing when I was asleep.”

“Arno.” Phillip tried again, but Arno looked down at his chest and began to cry.

“I remember those people dying, I remember feeling their blood on my hands, and I…I think I’m the killer.”

“Arno, you’re…you’re not well.” Demetri fussed, hands hovering over Arno’s shoulders and Arno doubled over and wept. He cast frightened glances at Phillip and found the youngest Frenchmen had grown stoic and composed. “Phillip is going to fix this, aren’t you?” Demetri looked up desperately, but Phillip was rubbing Arno’s back and reaching for the medicine. “Aren’t you?”

“Arno,” Phillip said softly. “What are you talking about?”

“I..I was there.” Arno sobbed, staring at his hands like he could still see the blood on them. Still feel the warmth stick his fingers together. “I was…”

“Arno, Demetri is right. It’s been a long few days’ for all of us.”

“You don’t understand!” Arno wept anew, bringing his knees to his chest and draping his arms around them to cradle himself. “Those were my missions.”

“Missions?” Demetri looked up at Phillip and he shrugged. “Arno, what do you-?”

“I was there!” Arno roared, looking so quickly and grabbing Demetri so forcefully that his thighs slammed into the table.

“You weren’t!” Demetri yelled back, tears blurring his version. Not that it mattered. He didn’t recognize the man before him. “Arno!” Arno slammed Demetri against the table again, and Demetri waved away Phillip’s attempts to help. “We checked your logs! You were-”

There were missions they hadn’t known of when Arno left the Brotherhood. They’d checked all the places he’d run, as a gesture of good will with the Mentors, but they hadn’t given thought to the ones he’d done with…

Just as Arno made move to harm Demetri again, Phillip popped the medicine in his mouth and shut it. Before he could fight, his eyes fluttered.

“Elise…” He breathed, and Phillip caught him. The pair lowered him to the table. A wooden bowl clattered to the ground, spilling broth everywhere.


End file.
